Manifest Yourself
by HigherMagic
Summary: Dean woke up knowing it would be a Bad Day with capital letters and freaking bold font from the first moment. What made it a Bad Day was when they ended up being guinea pigs in the prey-predator swap situation, practically hog-tied by a witch.


Title: **Manifest Yourself**  
Author: **HigherMagic**  
Pairings: **Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel (graphic relations for each) Sam/Dean (if you have your soulbonding hats on)**  
Rating: **NC-17**  
Word Count: **6,754**  
Spoilers: **Um…Gabriel?  
**Warnings: **Tail!Porn and Wing!Porn, ANGST, flimsy storytelling, swearing.  
Summary:** Dean woke up knowing it would be a **Bad Day**with capital letters and freaking bold font from the first moment. What made it a **Bad Day** was when they ended up being guinea pigs in the prey-predator swap situation, practically hog-tied by a witch who decided she didn't really want to be filleted that day.  
**Notes: **_"I now ask very very sweetly for cursed-with-wings!Dean and cursed-with-a-tail!Sam and each of their boys having major kinks ::winks:: It's my birthday on Monday, so I'm using that as a bribe XD"_ – siennis.  
That was the prompt. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY SLAVE. *huggles*  
I'm putting it around early S5 where Sam's still lovely and Gabriel's still alive :D  
This turned out way more intense than I'd imagined it would o.O Hope you like it anyway!  
I might be a lovely master, but I'm also lazy as hell and working on very little sleep. I also seem to be having trouble writing on-screen sex :/ Oh well.

* * *

Dean woke up knowing it would be a **Bad Day **with capital letters and freaking bold font from the first moment. He'd woken up to (of all things) 'Girlfriend' by Avril Lavigne blasting over the radio (which he'd then bashed the living electrons out of until it could no longer spew that shit, thank you). On top of that, Sam hadn't gotten breakfast so he was starving. The diner next to their motel was closed for renovations (which was, Sam claimed, the reason he hadn't gotten food) so Dean had had to drive twenty minutes to the next town to get a meal, and they didn't even serve food until ten (seriously, what kind of fucking diner…? Never mind) so he'd had to wait around, and then when he got back he had to find out that Sam had used all twelve minutes of hot water the motel had and so Dean was forced to take a nice cold shower.

This, however, only made a **Bad Morning. **What made it a **Bad Day** was when they ended up being guinea pigs in the prey-predator swap situation, practically hog-tied by a witch who decided she didn't really want to be filleted that day.

Honestly, the moment Dean finds an easy monster he will kiss the ashes after he's done killing it.

The witch was watching them carefully, Dean's favorite gun in one hand and what he could only assume was sage or something in the other. There was a smell in the air like burning hair and he wrinkled his nose, fighting the urge to gag. Sam struggled briefly against his bonds, but they were too tight and the entire place was Angel-proofed, so there was no help coming in that way, at least not for a while.

She seemed to have a personal beef with them, which was understandable – they did try to kill her and still kind of were, with the power of their minds which were significantly less powerful since someone got off the demon-joojoo (not that Dean was complaining). But she seemed particularly focused on how they looked (again, not surprising or new. People kept calling them pretty boys and it was really pissing him off but still).

She was doing it uniquely, though.

"Do you know how _difficult _it is nowadays?" This was actually five minutes into a full-on rant, but it didn't really make sense, and even now – well… "To blend in? Everything's out for everything's blood nowadays since you two muttonheads started the power-hunt. Special things, special people – well, we stand out like big neon signs saying 'Hey, I'm powerful, harness my energies!' Well, screw it." She rounded on them, brandishing the sage. "I'm gonna make you the same way."

_Oh, this can't be good, _Dean thought.

She walked over to a table that held a bowl, an open book full of spells and what Dean could only assume were magical ingredients for spells and potions and stuff like that. She waved her hand and the sage lit on fire and she dropped it into the bowl, adding a few more things as well and chanting under her breath.

"This can't be good," Sam said softly, stage-whispering it to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean bit his lip, trying to struggle against the bonds again, but it didn't help. Damn magic rope stuff (which actually meant 'We totally need some of this magic rope stuff, but not _on _us').

The chanting got louder, more animated.

_This is definitely not good._

The witch pointed at them. "From now on, the power that is inside of you both shall be physically shown to anyone who wishes to look. You will wear your souls on your sleeves and you will never be able to hide who and what you are," she screamed, and then there was a flash of bright light, and Dean had just the presence of mind to shut his eyes before a deafening, high-pitched whine filled his ears, and the sensation of being carried in strong, burning arms, and the orange glow behind his eyelids that was the cavalry coming to the rescue.

* * *

Dean woke up to excruciating…sensation.

Pain, pleasure, soreness, exhaustion. He felt everything at once, hyper aware. He gasped awake, taking in a deep breath because it felt like his lungs were burning. The scratchy sheets of the motel bed he found himself lying on felt abrasive, like sandpaper. His skin felt like it was being scraped off. His clothing, too, burned him. Gritting his teeth, Dean shut his eyes tightly because opening them even a little sent lightning-shards of pain through his eyes, and the feeling of his teeth grinding together jarred his skull.

"S'm," he grunted out, gasping again as he tried to roll over, the very air too harsh against him. He felt like he was being flayed to pieces. "Sam," he called, slightly louder, slightly more clearly, and heard a muffled groan to his right.

Well, it would have been muffled. It was actually very, very loud to him, and Dean clapped his hands over his ears to block out the sound of _movement. _He whined a little, squeezing his eyes shut again. God, it hurt. Too much sensation, too much -.

_"Dean." _Suddenly, stillness. Softness. The human shook slightly as darkness descended over his vision instead of the bright orange after-glow, and he cautiously opened his eyes. He was cocooned. In a mesh of dark, silvery-black feathers. He reached out to touch the shield, and it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt now.

"Cas," he breathed in relief, almost sobbing from it as he turned, finding his Angel's face. "Cas, what's happening?" he asked, trying to make his voice hard, trying to make himself strong again, demanding, but he felt rubbed raw by even the few minutes of hyper-awareness, the few minutes that had seemed like eternity. "The -."

"Shh, Dean," Castiel replied, placing a finger to the Hunter's lips. His voice was whisper-soft and didn't hurt Dean to hear, and the feathery shield ruffled a little, pulling closer and the area between them became warmer. "You and Sam were captured by a witch. She spelled you, but we don't know what she did or how she did it. Gabriel and I were attempting to find a solution or reversal when you and Sam woke up."

Dean swallowed, sucking in a deep lungful of warm, gentle air, and pressed back into the cocoon of Castiel's feathers. "Why does it hurt so much?" he whispered, eyes flashing upwards at Castiel's bright blue.

The Angel's eyes were sad, his expression set in a mix of concern and anxiety, as his hand moved from resting by Dean's chin to cupping his Hunter's cheek, brushing a thumb gently underneath Dean's eye. The Hunter would have called him out on such an intimate touch if he weren't so shaken. "Dean, this is very important – what did the witch do to you? What did she say? Did you hear?"

"Um…" Dean blinked, startled by the urgency in Castiel's voice, and tried to remember. "She was chanting in some weird language, and I didn't get to hear that, but she said we would…something to do with our souls being visible."

Abruptly the black shield was gone as Castiel sat up, staring down at Dean with wide, shocked eyes. With Castiel's wings gone, Dean was buffeted by sensation again, and he curled in on himself, crying out in pain as the light and the air burned into him, scraping against his skin, and the heat from the room made him feel like he was on fire. "_Cas._" He was begging, begging for the return of that sensory deprivation. This was all too much and Dean felt like he was going to die. His nerves were screaming at him to make it stop.

But the shield didn't come back – Dean forced his eyes open to see Castiel standing by his bed, looking down at him. "Cas, help me, please," Dean gasped, reaching out for the Angel, who caught his hand.

"I'm sorry Dean," Castiel replied, sounding apologetic, "but I have to help you by solving this." He pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, knocking the human out by putting him into an artificial sleep. Then he flew to Gabriel, to check on Sam.

* * *

"There are no adverse side effects?" he asked incredulously, unable to believe that after watching Dean practically fall into unconsciousness from pain just by _breathing, _Sam wasn't feeling any different.

Gabriel sat behind Sam on their motel bed, a frown of concentration on his face as he held Sam by the shoulder and hip, his eyes closed and searching around inside of his mate for any possible changes the witch may have caused. Finally he opened his eyes. "Sorry, bro, there's nothing different."

"Well, the witch didn't say it would change," Sam said irritably, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "She just said it would show. But I don't look any different – I don't _feel _any different." He looked to Castiel. "How's Dean?"

"He seems to be in a state of hyperawareness," Castiel said after a moment. Sam blinked at him. "He is feeling everything very intensely. He is only getting relief from when I cover him with my wings, or in his sleep – and even then I don't know."

"Shit….shit," Sam muttered, running his hands through his hair again, eyes clenched tightly shut. "I mean…that's not…what does that have to do with having a soul? Why don't I…?" He looked to Gabriel. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"The man asks if there's something wrong with him just because he's not collapsing in agony from blinking," Gabriel said in a deadpan, sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes and pushing himself to his feet. "Maybe the spell didn't…take? Maybe this is unrelated."

Castiel's expression clearly said what he thought of that theory.

Gabriel held his hands up. "Okay, okay…" He shrugged. "Maybe it's specific. I mean, of course it's specific. I mean, let's think about it – Dean-o does have a tendency to rule with his emotions. He's rash and he feels things too much. Maybe this is the physical manifestation of that."

Sam swallowed, frowning. "I hope that not _everything _will show," he said, thinking of Dean's years on the rack, of the stain on his own soul from the demon blood. Of the things they've killed – murder harms a soul, and the Winchesters would bear the scars from it.

Abruptly Castiel's cell phone began to ring, and the Angel pulled it out, checking Caller ID – though there were only two people in the universe who had both the need and the number to call Cas, and one of them was in the room – "It's Dean," he said, before answering.

There was a pause as Castiel listened on the phone, his eyes growing wider and wider by the second. Gabriel, who had advanced hearing, gave a low whistle, and Castiel didn't even bother to explain or even hang up before there was a flutter of wings, and he was gone.

"What the hell?" Sam asked, worry making him snappy.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking over at Sam. "Seems like you're brother's acquired some extra appendages that he could use help with."

Sam's nose wrinkled at the mildly dirty phrasing. "What do you mean, '_appendages'_?"

"Wings, Sammy. I mean wings."

* * *

Castiel appeared in the middle of Dean's hotel room. "Dean I -," he began.

And stopped.

They'd torn up Dean's t-shirt, and it hung in shreds from the unbroken collar of the shirt and around his arms. Dean was currently struggling out of the remains of the garment, and they were flared up to either side of him. They were _huge. _One of them was squashed against the headboard of the bed, too large to stretch out at all, and the other was behind Dean, flared out and arching over the rest of the bed, bending from gravity to rest on the floor.

Castiel could see where they joined into his back, strong muscle burrowed deep into the divot of Dean's spine where they melded in seamlessly, a part of him. They looked like those of an eagle's, with strong curving arches and long flight feathers, built on top of each other with smaller, downier feathers. They were _beautiful; _the color of onyx and bronze mixed together, with splashes and flecks of crimson and verdant green, the same color as his eyes. Along each arch was a bright splotch of gold, like someone had grabbed onto the bone and pulled them right out of him with that handhold.

Castiel damn near dropped his phone, and was struck speechless. His eyes were wide and staring, because that wasn't the only thing Dean had acquired.

Wounds.

There were abrasions all down his back and arms. His back was open from the base of one wing to his hip and disappearing into his jeans, open and red and bleeding. His skin was a canvas of bruises and scrapes, ranging from mild to almost-fatal. The Angel gasped, drawing Dean's attention.

It hurt to move, but the Hunter still managed to whip himself to his feet, taking an aggressive stance towards the Angel, wings arching up of their own accord to make him look bigger. The entire side of his face was scraped like he'd been dragged against concrete, like that ghost that had to be scared to death. He looked like someone had gone several rounds with him and won.

No one should be _standing _looking like that.

"_Dean_…" It was all Castiel could force out, torn between the beauty of Dean's wings and the horrifying wounds on his body. Blood dripped down the side of his face, pooling along the curve of his cheek and it looked like he was crying bloody tears. "Dean, what happened?"

The Hunter had relaxed, seeing his Angel, and then looked at himself. His knuckles were bruised and split open and his hands were shaking. "I don't…I don't know." He sounded afraid – his wings were quivering and they drew Cas' attention. "I…everything hurts. _Everything._"

Even as Castiel watched, Dean's neck began to redden as though someone had tried to lynch him. It was from the collar of his shirt. Castiel ran forward, but hesitated to touch Dean lest he deal another blow. The Hunter, however, took his hand, placing it on his chest, over his anti-possession tattoo. "You were the only thing that didn't hurt," he explained softly, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "It doesn't hurt so much when you're around."

"This is part of the spell," Castiel murmured, splaying his fingers out and moving his hand so it rested against Dean's heart. The bruises marring his chest receded a little where Castiel touched him. The Angel's eyes flashed up towards his charge, his Hunter, his mate, and Dean met the gaze. "This. Hurting. Gabriel thinks it's because you're always hurting. Dean…" His other hand joined the first, this time resting on the side of Dean's neck. "How did these happen? These are old wounds, on the soul." He looked up again. "Tell me."

Dean sighed, looking away. It felt better now that Castiel was touching him, talking to him. The weight of Castiel's absence had been like a physical pain inside of him – he wasn't sure if it was because of the spell thing or because he was honestly so hooked on his Angel, but it scared him.

His wings were curving forward involuntarily and Castiel's eyes zeroed in on the motion, and the Angel drew in a breath, his eyes widening before he stepped away, but still keeping merciful contact with his fingertips against Dean's skin. Dean flushed in shame, focusing and ended up folding them behind his back loosely, and the sound of his feathers rustling was deafening in the silence.

"Sorry," he murmured, still not meeting Castiel's eyes.

The Angel cocked his head to one side. "Why?" he asked, frowning.

"For…that." Dean blushed again, his wings shifting a little. "I shouldn't be…I can't…"

Castiel's eyes widened in understanding. "No, Dean, it's not like that, it's just…" The Angel's eyes – darkened, Dean could now see – looked back at the tips of Dean's wings which were inches from touching the floor, red-flecked tips peeking out around his legs. "I'm not…I cannot touch you like that. Especially now."

"What do you mean, _especially now?_" Dean repeated harshly, and the only thing that kept him from moving away was the blessed touch, keeping the pain at bay for now. Castiel sighed, shaking his head, moving his hands to Dean's face and holding it.

"Dean…I knew your soul was beautiful. From the moment I held it in my arms and put it back into your body – a body I made with my Grace and left my mark on – I knew you were beautiful. But _seeing _it now…being able to touch it on a human plane…" Castiel's eyes flashed away for a brief moment before returning. "I am overwhelmed."

Dean gave a snort of derision, his wings shaking out behind him. "They're just wings, Cas," he said softly. "They're nothing like yours. They're not…" He looked over his shoulder, experimentally flapping them, just a little, enough to make the halves of Castiel's trench coat flare back in the breeze. "They're not like yours."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Mine are nothing special. Practically every Angel in Heaven has wings like mine."

"But I don't get to touch _theirs, _Cas; I get to touch _yours, _and feel them, and have them wrapped around me. I get to listen to the sounds you make when I groom you and I get to see them every day, and they're awesome." Dean stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Castiel's body until his hands found the dip between his shoulder blades, and he pressed down firmly, fingernails digging in just a little. Castiel gasped, jerking in Dean's arms. "I want to know what it feels like, Cas," Dean husked in his mate's ear, uncaring for how the action caused blood to smear along the side of Castiel's cheek; "Whatever caused this – if this is my soul or not – I want you to be able to touch it. Please."

"It could overwhelm you, Dean," Castiel warned, but the Hunter could feel the burn of need in Castiel's hold, how his hands had tightened and Dean could practically _feel _the Angel's gaze on his wings. "Humans were not meant to feel something like this."

_"…Try me."

* * *

_

There was a ripping sound, and Gabriel turned around to see Sam…

The Archangel cocked his head to one side. "Too much porn lately, Sammy?" he asked, amused, folding his arms over his chest, weight on one leg as he looked at Sam stare, dumbfounded, at the newest development to his body…

…A tail.

Not like those classic arrowhead tails. It was more like a snake tail (or whatever part of the snake you want, really). It was thick at the base where it seemed to come out of the base of Sam's spine, tapering at the end to a smooth rounded point that was about as thick as Sam's pinky finger. It was waving around in midair, following Sam's eye line. Or maybe Sam was following its movements. Either way, Gabriel's Winchester had suddenly developed a tail and, well…it was weird.

Gabriel gave a low whistle, because there were _so _many jokes he could make out of this. _Hm…long organ. Hard to control? Hard organ? Bingo. _He smirked to himself. But Sam was just frowning at the thing, like he was more confused than upset, and Gabriel sauntered over to Sam's side, plopping down next to him on the bed.

"There's smoke coming out of your ears," he stage-whispered to the younger Winchester, and Sam snapped out of whatever trance his cobra tail had lured him into, staring at Gabriel with wide, shocked eyes. "But you seem to be taking this rather well."

Sam's eyes wandered back to the tail. "Um…"

"That's okay, Sam," Gabriel said, grinning as he placed his hand on Sam's knee, "spontaneous organ manifestations are hard to deal with. You take your time."

"You're so full of shit, Gabriel," Sam snapped, pushing at the Archangel, to no effect – Gabriel was immovable as a mountain when he wanted to be. His tail snapped at the air irritably, and there was a cracking sound like a whip. Gabriel's eyes zeroed in on it again. "…This feels weird."

Gabriel pursed his lips, nodding. "Generally getting any kind of tail is weird," he said, giving Sam a shit-eating grin when the younger Winchester gave him a bitch face. "Can I…?" He made a vague motion with his hand.

Sam blinked, surprised, and his tail withdrew from his other side, swaying anxiously before wrapping itself firmly around his calf, muscles bunching under thinly-stretched black scales. Definitely like a snake. Gabriel didn't actually wait for a reply before his hand was on the tail, digging his thumb in just a little to the underside of the tail, fingers wrapped around its girth. Sam's tail was too big for his fingers to wrap around completely.

Sam jerked at the sudden grip, hissing through his teeth, and Gabriel felt the tail seize up under his hand. He raised a brow at the reaction. "You alright there, Sammy?" he asked softly, dragging his hand down, keeping a tight squeeze on it as it thinned out towards the tip.

"You…" Sam was panting, leaning back onto locked and shaking arms, already beginning to flush and sweat a little from Gabriel's ministrations. "It feels…_Gabriel…_" He gasped, throwing his head back when Gabriel reached the tip and gently disentangled it from Sam's leg. The tail instead coiled around Gabriel's arm, grabbing with suffocating tightness that would have snapped the bones of a normal human. "_Shit_."

Gabriel's smile couldn't be wider. "Sensitive, Sammy?" he asked, rubbing his thumb along the tip and watching it twitch in his hand.

Sam's body felt like it was on fire. This felt like sex, only more intense. When Gabriel touched his tail, it felt like he was touching his…

"Fuck, this is the spell, isn't it?" Sam asked, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw when Gabriel kept touching, bringing his other hand into play now and focusing on the base of the tail, around the edges of Sam's tattered jeans. "My soul."

Gabriel 'hmm'ed. "If you're still aware enough to figure that out, I'm not going my job properly," he said, and then suddenly Sam was on his back, staring up at Gabriel, straddling his chest, still holding his tail so tightly that Sam couldn't even _think _about tearing it away. "But yes, since you mentioned it." He paused, scooting down Sam's chest until he was sitting on the Winchester's thighs. Sam grimaced and shifted uncomfortably at the sensation of his weight and Gabriel's on the base of his tail, crushing it awkwardly. Gabriel seemed to notice, and moved, letting Sam readjust. "This is the physical manifestation of your soul…" He trailed off, eyeing Sam's tail, and let go of the tip, instead reaching down to Sam's side where his tail came out from under his body. "It's strong, and powerful, and probably capable of doing so _many _dirty things…"

It was only now that Sam became aware of Gabriel's own state. The Archangel's normally bright hazel eyes were dark, black with lust. He had the kind of look in his eyes that meant Sam was in the good kind of trouble and his cheeks were flushed, lips parted and he was breathing almost as hard as Sam was, just from _touching _and _looking at _Sam's tail.

Sam groaned, his tail wrapping around Gabriel's thigh, and the Archangel jumped as he slid it between his legs, rubbing at Gabriel's crotch teasingly. Sam smirked at the look on Gabriel's face, and shrugged. "I'm a fast learner."

"Yeah you are," Gabriel growled, then leaned down, bringing their lips together in a clash of teeth and tongues, eagerly asked for and answered as Sam clutched at Gabriel, digging his heels into the mattress and bucking his hips up at the same time he let the tail slide more between Gabriel's legs, the dual pressure causing the Archangel to shudder and moan into his mouth, practically _whimpering. _A snap of fingers and their clothes were gone.

Gabriel's hands were _everywhere; _in Sam's hair, down his sides where he was sensitive, on his tail, fisting both it and their cocks together with both hands, and Sam growled, throwing his head back. "Wait," he said, stilling Gabriel's hands. "Lube."

The Archangel raised an eyebrow, and then snapped his fingers, and lube appeared in Sam's hand. The Winchester grinned, opening the cap and pouring a generous amount onto his fingers, then sat up. "C'mere," he coaxed, pulling Gabriel closer onto his lap, and the tip of his tail wrapped around the Archangel's cock briefly, giving a light squeeze before withdrawing. Gabriel gasped, bucking up too late into a grip that was no longer there.

"Whatcha got planned, Sammy?" he gasped out, wrapping his arms around Sam's broad shoulders, happy to wait in Sam's arms to see what Sam would do.

The Winchester grinned, rasping the words into Gabriel's ear as his hands trailed, slippery and slick, down Gabriel's spine, making him shiver, before he reached Gabriel's hole, pushing in one finger without stopping until it was buried deep. The Archangel mewled at the sudden intrusion, hips rising instinctively to escape it, clenching to force Sam back out, but the Hunter was used to this and held steady.

"I'm gonna open you nice and wide with my fingers, and wait until you're good and ready for me and just begging for me…" Sam waited, grinning almost sadistically when Gabriel's breath hitched and his nails dug in a little onto the muscle of Sam's shoulders. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you with my tail." Gabriel gasped. "Then my cock, then maybe both – we'll see what happens."

"Oh _fuck, _Sammy," Gabriel snarled. "Better fucking deliver."

Sam chuckled darkly, beginning to move his finger in and out of Gabriel's willing, pliant body, loving the little panted gasps against his neck where warm condensation was left behind as Gabriel breathed into his skin, teeth bared against Sam's throat, and though Sam couldn't quite see them, he could feel the weight of Gabriel's wings around himself as well.

He smirked against the Archangel's temple. "Don't worry, Gabe – we've got all night."

* * *

"Tell me about this one."

The demand was whispered, and took Dean by surprise. The Hunter was currently a mess on his motel room bed, desperately clawing at the sheets as Castiel perched on his lower back, hands deep in Dean's feathers. The Hunter's new, virgin wings were coated in fine oils that drenched Castiel's fingers and his back, and Castiel watched as every wound he touched melted away.

He traced his oil-slick finger across the cut on Dean's back, watching it heal, and Dean shuddered, turning a tear-streaked face towards the Angel from where he was laying. "Alistair," he croaked out, and the Angel's Grace flared with hatred at the name. "He wanted to see if I still had a spine after ten years."

Castiel had been right – touching a soul like this, so physically, was overwhelming. Dean felt like he was being ripped apart piece by piece until there was nothing of him left, until all that was there was the space he had once inhabited, and then slowly, _slowly, _being put back together again. With duct tape and hot glue so that he could feel the pain of reassembly. Castiel's touch felt so good it was _painful, _so painful, and his soul shuddered in Castiel's hands, his wings trembling, pulled so tightly to his back except where Castiel could convince him to flare them out again so that the Angel could groom them.

"I never realized how much you were wounded, Dean," Castiel whispered. "Even when I…" He shook his head. "I never knew."

Dean was almost completely healed – Castiel had been sure to erase every trace of pain from Dean's body, but there was one mark that refused to go away – the mark of resurrection that Castiel himself had left behind on Dean's arm, the mark that made the Hunter _his. _

"How could you have? There are some things even Grace can't heal, Cas," came Dean's muffled reply, and Castiel sighed, kneeling up so he could flip Dean onto his back. The Hunter hissed a little at the feeling of air dragging over his skin, because even though Castiel could still heal him, when the Angel wasn't touching him, it _hurt. _

Castiel leaned down, wiping the tears from the Hunter's face, leaving oil behind instead. "You are still beautiful," he said softly, placing a light kiss on Dean's lips, chaste but deep enough to have Dean chasing him when he pulled away, resting their foreheads together. "Your soul is beautiful, even though it hurts you so much."

Dean swallowed, and said; "Show me your wings, Cas."

The Angel obeyed, his silvery-black wings arching up high over his head with a small fluttering sound. The Hunter watched them, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then reached up, curving his hands over Castiel's back where his wings came out, making him shudder lightly. "What would happen if I touched my wings to yours, Cas? Going all the way?" He smirked at his own wording.

Castiel cocked his head to one side, opening his mouth a few times before actually replying; "I believe that you would be able to feel me as I feel you." His wings descended just a little, inviting, but he didn't touch Dean with his wings. Not yet. "But that must be your decision, Dean. I don't know what will happen, or how it will affect you. Humans cannot fathom the connection that Angels share in regularly."

Dean swallowed, nervous, but nodded, arching his wings up at the same time Castiel drove his down, and they clashed together.

It was like waking up in that hyperawareness all over again. Dean felt like a blade was being stabbed through his chest and then the open wound was filled with molten lava, and he arched up, gasping loudly. He might have cried out – his mouth was certainly open, but the only thing he could hear was a high-pitched whine. Bright light filled his vision and he was abruptly aware that this was _Castiel's Grace. _Full-on Grace that wasn't burning his eyes out to see. It was like a total out-of-body experience, except he was so _aware _of every muscle, every cell, every organ and nerve and heartbeat. It engulfed him, the sensation, and there was the sound and sight of black wings on the edge of his vision, and he was overcome with the feeling of power and purity, terrifying and safe all at once.

He might have blacked out, because when he came to Castiel was breathing hard, staring down at him with wide, black eyes. Dean took a deep, shuddering breath, unable to do anything except stare up at Castiel as well, drawing air into his desperate, burning lungs. Castiel's wings had been put away again, onto whatever plane they disappeared into when not in use, and Dean leaned his head back, taking another deep breath. One hand came up and ran through his sweat-slick hair, and he grimaced. He felt gross. There was moisture _everywhere. _

"What the hell am I lying in?" he asked, and Castiel blinked, looking at the sheets they were on.

"Wing oil, sweat and semen," he replied dispassionately, and Dean couldn't help it – he burst out laughing. Castiel fixed him with another of his **Looks**, and then shook his head, and with a touch to Dean's forehead they were both clean and laying on the spare bed.

"That was…intense," Dean said after a moment, sitting up. His wings were limp beneath him, and he felt the burn of muscle exhaustion when he tried to lift them. Castiel's eyes watched him move for a moment before he smiled.

"I did warn you," he said, somewhat smugly, and then he was kissing Dean, tongue sliding easily into the Hunter's still-open, panting mouth, stealing his air but ruining it with his smile, the kiss deep but way too brief for what he wanted. "Thank you, Dean…for sharing your soul with me."

Dean chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "I think it was yours from the moment you yanked me out of Hell," he replied without thinking, and Castiel blinked at him, cocking his head to one side again. His lips pursed as he mused over his response;

"Yes, I suppose it was."

* * *

"Oh, _fuck, _Sammy," Gabriel growled, teeth locked and grinding together as Sam surged up into him once more, filling Gabriel up so deliciously, and the Archangel mewled when the head of Sam's cock brushed his prostate, sending him jerking, his wings flaring out behind him. "_Fuck, _please. More. Harder."

Sam chuckled again, the bastard, and adjusted his grip on Gabriel's hips, holding him a little lower, and changed the angle, thrusting up a little more harshly as per demand (request). His tail snuck under his folded leg, between both his and Gabriel's and –

Was it –

_"Fuck!" _Gabriel cried out when the tail started kneading the muscles in his back, the thick, warm length of it laying flat across his spine. Gabriel was practically sobbing, clutching Sam hard enough to bruise as the tip dug in between his shoulder blades. The ArchHerald howled when Sam started moving his tail in a counter-rhythm to his cock, sending the Archangel desperately writhing to try and get both pleasures at once, to no avail. "Sam…"

Sam purred, grinning against Gabriel's temple before he knotted one of his hands in the hair at the back of Gabriel's head, pulling the Archangel until he could kiss him – a harsh, demanding thing to let Gabriel take out his frustrations, because Sam knew better than anyone that if Gabriel didn't have an outlet then things in the room started spontaneously exploding.

His lips were bitten red and bloody and then some by the time Sam finally managed to work up the nerve to move his tail to Gabriel's hole, tentatively feeling around the edge – sure, Gabriel had reacted positively to Sam talking about fucking him with both as once, but it was still a _tail _and that was weird. But the Archangel gasped into Sam's mouth, pressing back with his hips, so Sam did a mental 'To hell with it' and wiggled the tip of his tail in alongside his cock, glad that it was so narrow because it meant he didn't have to move his hands to stretch Gabriel more.

Oh. _Oh. _

_Fuck._

It felt more intense than just his cock inside of Gabriel. The extra girth as he pushed in a little deeper made Gabriel tighter and hotter, dry scales sliding against warm flesh and velvet heat. The strong muscles of Sam's tail made Gabriel's hole stretch to accommodate him, the dirty feeling of fucking into the Archangel with his _soul _was just weird on so many levels, but weird's kind of Sam's style and Gabriel's _certainly _not complaining, moaning and shaking and writhing in Sam's lap like a Goddamn whore, and Sam loves it, loves the power trip even though they both know things could turn with just a snap of Gabriel's fingers.

Sam bit his lower lip, tasting blood, and moaned into Gabriel's mouth, angling his tail to press harshly, unyieldingly against Gabriel's prostate, and the Archangel howled, his wings flaring out, and Sam closed his eyes as the Angel exploded in a flash of light as he came, seizing up so tightly around Sam that the Hunter's orgasm was forced from him in a breathless handful of seconds, and he emptied himself into Gabriel, moaning at the feeling of warm come slicking up his tail.

Gabriel whimpered when Sam pulled his spent cock out, but left his tail in. When Gabriel shifted a little, grimacing, Sam grinned and wiggled the tail inside of him, causing the Archangel to make a surprised little noise (that _wasn't _a squeak) and jump in Sam's lap, and the Winchester laughed when Gabriel fixed him with a dirty look.

"I wanna keep it in," he said with a light shrug, and Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine. You're so _dirty, _Sam Winchester," Gabriel said, laughing as Sam just shrugged again and smiled, kissing him and rolling him onto his back. The sensation of being moved with a thick tail still deep in his ass was foreign and strange to Gabriel, but it felt _really _good, and he moaned into Sam's mouth, reaching down to hook around Sam's ass and push him in deeper. Sam laughed again, giving an experimental little thrust with his tail, and Gabriel growled, knowing that Sam would spend the rest of the night paying for this newfound cockiness.

* * *

The next morning Castiel flew Dean into Sam's motel room so that the Winchesters could be in one place without drawing attention to themselves by going outside. Sam could only stare at Dean's wings while Dean stared at Sam's tail, which mercifully by this point had been removed from Gabriel's ass. It felt…weird, feeling their gazes on each other, looking at what was essentially Dean's soul, and what was essentially Sam's.

The wounds had come back for Dean, marring his features and his skin, but the world didn't hurt so much anymore. At least, he got good at hiding it, even if a shirt would end up leaving lynch-like pressure bruises on his neck and when, if he moved too fast, the air would scratch his skin and make it sting.

"Rough night?" Sam asked softly, finally meeting Dean's eyes.

The older Winchester nodded. "You look good," he said softly, throat hoarse and voice rough. Castiel looked over to him with sorrow-filled eyes and traced a hand down the side of Dean's face. What was remarkable was that not only did Dean _not _avoid the touch; he also leaned into it, sighing gently at the temporary relief.

"We can't hunt like this," Sam said, gesturing to themselves as he looked towards their two Angels. Gabriel's eyes met Castiel's, determined, jaws set.

"Looks like it's a good old fashioned witch hunt, little brother," Gabriel said somberly, his eyes going back to Dean's. It was clear who got the short end of the stick in this deal, and while he didn't really have a problem with Sam's new…well, new look, Castiel and Dean didn't deserve this and shouldn't have to live with it. He clapped his hands together, ignoring how Dean flinched at the sound. "You two hold tight; we're going to get this solved as soon as possible."

They didn't have time to reply before the Angels were gone, and Dean's wings folded tightly to his back, arms over his chest, jaw clenched in pain as he looked away from Sam, looked anywhere _but _at Sam. The younger brother swallowed.

"They'll be back soon, Dean."

Dean looked down, sighing. "Yeah, Sammy, I know," he said, but that wasn't what he was thinking about. Well, yeah…so the physical part of it would go. The deep connections and the pain and the _wings _would stop being visible, but that didn't mean they weren't there. That didn't mean they still weren't under his skin, in his _soul, _and now Sam, Gabriel and Castiel had seen them. Seen how broken he was and how broken Sam _wasn't._

Dean could see how scarred he was now, and how despite everything, Sammy had still remained pure. Only a little blemish marred him and even then it could be a hell of a lot worse. Dean would say he was jealous but he honestly is just grateful that after everything they've been through, Sam is still pure and good and _Sammy._ Even after sleeping with demons and being the one to raise Lucifer, Sam isn't hurt, isn't broken or scarred. So Dean's not jealous. He's incredibly grateful that Sam isn't suffering.

Dean's been suffering all his life. This is nothing new. He'd gladly carry this weight instead of Sammy. It just…makes him think, makes him wonder what exactly he did to earn such punishment that Sam didn't do.

Not that he's bearing ill will towards Sam.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair (and wincing at that) and shook his wings out behind him. Sam's eyes zeroed in on the movement, and he snorted, smiling somewhat bitterly. "What?" Dean asked, catching the expression.

"Figures you get Angel wings and I get a demon tail," he replied, tail shifting slightly behind him to demonstrate. Dean forced a smile but didn't say anything. "Hey, Dean…They're kind of awesome, you know that, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was flushing, pinning his wings tightly to his back again. "Thanks, Sam," he said, looking to the floor. Another awkward silence descended over the two Winchesters as Dean looked away, finally getting tired of standing and pulling up a chair next to Sam on the bed, grabbing for the TV remote and turning it on.

Sam couldn't stop looking at Dean's wings, biting his lip as he fought against the urge to touch them. Something like that would probably not only be unwelcome, but intimate as hell and Sam wouldn't know how Dean would react to something like that, so he resisted.

Eventually Dean looked over Sam's way. It felt like his skin was crawling with his brother's gaze on him. "What is it, Sammy?" he asked softly, knowing what Sam was about to ask.

The younger Winchester bit his lip, sighing slightly, his fingers tightening just a little. "It's just…I really…" He gestured vaguely to Dean's wings. "They look really soft," he finally settled on, unable to actually say the words – say that he wanted to touch Dean's _soul._

Dean shifted a little, uneasily. "Yeah, they are," he murmured in reply, focusing resolutely back on the TV. His wings rustled where they rested over the back of the chair, falling to the floor in heaps of black, gold and red.

Sam sighed, sitting back as well, because Dean hadn't said he could touch them and, to be honest, from the reaction he'd had when Gabriel had touched his _tail _he wasn't sure what would happen and if it would increase the scale of their awkward, homoerotic codependency.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Burying his fingers in those feathers, or sweeping his hands over the arches, comparing them to Gabriel's wings. Maybe they'd be softer. They looked more delicate than Gabriel's – smaller. Less for flying and more for defense, which Sam supposed made sense. His tail shifted again by his side, responding his mind's desire to touch, and before Sam realized what he was doing, the tail was resting at the base of Dean's spine, dragging lightly upwards.

His big brother gave a full-body shudder, looking over his shoulder at what Sam was doing, but otherwise he didn't move. In fact, his wings flared out a little, giving Sam more skin to work with. Sam's tail gently rubbed along Dean's spine, and the tip hooked up over Dean's wing, digging into the soft underside gently. Dean's wings shuddered visibly, flaring out some more, and his hands were clenched on the arms of the chair, knuckles white. Blood was starting to seep through Dean's t-shirt from his permanent wounds and Sam paused, withdrawing slightly.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, scooting closer so he didn't have to stretch out his tail so much. Dean shook his head slightly, gasping as he tried to recover. "Okay, good," Sam whispered, his tail going back to brushing against Dean's wings.

Touching them might not be okay, but this wasn't really touching them. This was Sam's soul reaching out and touching Dean's soul, loving it, making it feel good. Sam rested his forehead against Dean's bloody cheek as his tail dragged through the oils on Dean's wings, getting slick from it and grooming the feathers, fine tip agile and able to easily card through the feathers, realigning them into their right place.

It felt like warmth and safety to Sam. Dean was always a safe house, would always make sure he was okay despite everything – maybe _because _of everything. To Dean it was like liquid comfort, Sam's soul telling him he was wanted, needed, taking care of him for once. It was intimate but on an entirely different level than what Dean had with Castiel, or what Sam had with Gabriel. This wasn't on the level of mates – not even close – but two Brothers who'd been through everything and still had things lying ahead of them to overcome.

Dean's wings flared out and over Sam, one going around his shoulders, resting there and Sam gasped at the feeling of the smooth, barely-there feathers. The golden splotch at the top of one wing rested by his neck, and the other wing curved around Dean, in front of them so it rested over his lap. Sam's tail wrapped itself around Dean's waist, following the curve of his wing until it rested on that second golden splotch, and Dean shook around a small laugh.

"You'd have thought sleeping with an Archangel would get you the wing bonus too," he said lightly, the joke falling flat due to how _wrecked _he sounded, but Sam smiled anyway.

"Yeah, well, he _is _Gabriel. Can't get your hopes too high."

Dean smiled a little more widely in reply, and pulled Sam a little closer with his wings. They held each other like that until the wings and tail disappeared, the spell broken.


End file.
